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“It could have been accidentally . . . or even deliberately broken, but why would his be and not ours?” Camille shook her head. “He was last seen in the palace, with Queen Asteria. I think we have to accept that he’s dead. I guess . . . I guess we contact Aunt Rythwar and tell her about Father. I’ll do that, tomorrow. I just . . . not tonight.”
I wanted to cry, but mostly I felt numb. So much had gone on that the whole past couple of days seemed like a vivid, painful nightmare. We sat there for ten minutes, twenty, none of us saying a word. Tears were too dangerous to give in to right now. Mourning would come later, when we’d had time to adjust.
“Do you remember how he used to take us to the falls every chance he got? Delilah, you hated those outings, but I loved them. I loved swimming in the pool, and pretending I was a mermaid.” Camille shuddered as she spoke, but her words made us all smile.
“I just hated the water. I loved going places with you guys.” I gave her a wan shrug, but the memory of the sunlight on the grass stood out, a ray of light in a dark, dreary evening.
“I wonder how the pond looks by moonlight. We could go back there . . .” Menolly twirled my toy mouse by the tail.
After another silence, I realized we still had to tell Menolly about our mother’s kin. No time like the present, and maybe, in some way, it would help.
I looked up at her. “This is a hell of a time to bring it up, but . . . speaking of family, Carter told us something a couple days ago but it got shoved to the wayside with what went down in Elqaneve.”
She grimaced. “Oh, what joyful news does he have for us now?”
Camille leaned over her shoulder. “Apparently, our mother has blood kin that live in the area. Long story short: we have two cousins living near here. Alive. They’re in their forties, and they are full FBH.”
Menolly’s jaw dropped. “What? I thought she was an orphan.”
“Apparently not . . .” We told her what Carter had found out.
Camille sighed. “So, the question is, do we want to contact our cousins and tell them about Mother?”
A pause, then I looked up. There was no doubt in either of their eyes. “Of course we do. I don’t think we have a choice.”
“Do you have their number?” Menolly gazed at me, evenly. I realized it was a dare.
“Right here in my notebook.” I pulled out my notebook where I’d written it down. “You want me to call now?” Somehow it seemed wrong to call right after we’d gotten the news about Father’s soul statue, but I had begun to realize that there would never be the right time. Not with our lives. There would always be something going on, always some battle brewing, some friend or loved one missing or dead. That was just the way our existence had become.
Camille handed me the phone and I stared at it for a moment.
“Before I call them, let me contact Tim and give him the account name and URL for Supernatural Matchups so he can start trying to hack into Violet’s account. We need to know who she was hooking up with.”
“Good idea.” Camille leaned back on the sofa, crossing her legs. She sounded weary as she reached down to unbuckle one of her stilettos and toss it on the floor. We all looked worn out, and I had the feeling we’d be a lot worse off before we got better.
I put in the call and five minutes later, Tim had written down the information and promised to do his best to break in. As I hung up, I stared at the phone in my hand. No more procrastination. We’d made the decision to do this thing, and we might as well get it over with. If they didn’t want to talk to us, we’d be no worse off than before. And if they met with us and rejected us, well, we couldn’t make people like us. Blood didn’t automatically garner acceptance; we knew that all too well.
I punched in the first number. I was running on autopilot, but when a woman answered the phone, a rush of hope washed through me.
“Hello, I’m looking for Hester Lou Fredericks. Can you tell me if I’m calling the right number?” I paused.
“This is Hester. Who’s calling, and what can I do for you?” The voice was so friendly and open that it lifted my heart. I wondered, what did she look like? Was there any sort of a family resemblance? I looked most like our mother, and my mind began to whirl in a thousand directions.
“You don’t know me, but my name is Delilah D’Artigo. I don’t know how to explain this, but . . . we’re related. We’re cousins. My sisters and I would like to meet you.” How the hell I thought I could explain this over the phone, I had no clue, but maybe if we met and were face-to-face, the words would come.
A pause. Another moment and then, “Of course. Would you mind if we met in a coffee shop? It’s not that I don’t want to be hospitable but . . .”
“No worries. We understand. Would you and your brother—we know about him, too—be able to meet us this evening?”
It seemed we might as well make the date as soon as we could. I half wanted to get it over with so we didn’t sit wondering how it would go down.
Hester let out what sounded like a snort. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get hold of Daniel, but I can meet you. There’s a Starbucks on Fiftieth and Lexington. I’ll be wearing a chartreuse shirt. Can you be there in an hour?”
I glanced at the clock. It was six thirty now. “Yes, we’ll meet you in an hour. And Hester . . . thank you.” I handed Camille back the phone. “It’s set. She knows my name so we’d better go through with this.”
We stared at one another for the next minute, then, in a flurry, we beat a rush to make ourselves presentable.
• • •
